The Call of the Tower

Such chaos, I can scarcely recall it. The sickly, rolling fog, bodies rushing to the Transept, herded through like cattle, mad with fear. The horrible roar of the crowd as we were forced forward by the sea of bodies. Mothers screaming for their children, Companymen shouting orders, the stampede of boots on stone. Then silence as I was thrust into the Portal. The inter-Realmic void swallowed me, and, as I felt myself drifting, I saw a figure. Much like a man, but with great horns and a face of porcelain. It beckoned, and, in my desperation, I could do naught but follow. Now, I find myself here, alone. There were so many of us flooding through, they must be near, somewhere. I cannot be the only one.

If others arrived here, I fear the worst. I can no longer tell if what I see is real, or all a great charade. Ghastly bodies lurch from the darkness to assail me. They are not human, cannot be human. What would create such monstrosities? Nothing here is what it seems. There are rabbits and deer, but they are wrong, twisted. What look like remnants of camps are scattered about. I dare not go near them, not after the last time. I have little knowledge to aid me here, and, with each passing moment, the pangs of hunger grow more painful. I need a safe place, somewhere to hide. In the distance stands a great tower, drawing the eye like a beacon. Something about it feels familiar, a reminder of home. Perhaps it shall be my salvation.

I fear my eyes deceive me. Before I could reach the tower, I heard a voice call out. I knew it to be a ruse, as every hopeful sign previous, but I could not resist a glance. A woman, waving, called me over, said she was with a group, that they had all fled the Pale and found themselves here. My heart longs to believe her, but this land has done naught but play cruel tricks upon me, time and time again. Against all wisdom, I followed her back to their camp. They have welcomed me, but I dare not turn my back to any one of them, nor will I eat the food they offer. It will be a sleepless night, but should a Fae be here to taunt me with their illusions, they shall not find me unprepared.

We have been camped here for a handful of days, and none have yet revealed themselves as monstrous. I remain on guard, and though I ache to laugh with them, to share their warm bread, some speak with such fondness of these Faewilds and their keepers. I must hold strong, keep my wits. The woman I first met, Alicia, has been urging the group to move camp, find somewhere more secure. They have not seen the beasts which plagued me, furthering my distrust, but my stories seem to have frightened her. I suggested we move toward that distant tower. I have not lost sight of it since I came, and, even when I look away, I see it in my mind’s eye. It is something of import, this I know. We will journey at dawn.

Finally, we stand before the tower. Truly its construction baffles the mind. A great, perilous spike, reaching up toward the sky, putting even the Salisbury Cathedral spire to shame. The closer we drew, the more I felt the itch, the clawing pull of the tower carrying me forward. Even as the trees hid it from view, I knew which paths would lead me to it. The group has become wary, though I know not why. I can see it in their eyes that they feel the pull as I do. It frightens them, and, though their hesitation confounds me, I believe it is our shared nature that hears the call. These people are no Fae constructs, with all that I am, I know this. As of yet, the doors remain locked to us, but I will find a way in.

At last I understand what led me here. I forced the door and brought us, unsuspecting, into the tower. We roamed through a series of vast, open chambers, then the roar that approached shook the very stone. Shambling beasts poured toward us from above and below. The injuries were many, and we were barely able to escape with our lives, fleeing deeper still. I cannot help but feel responsible, yet, even huddled as we are in some black chamber of this cursed spire, I cannot shake the compulsion. To my surprise, Alicia and the others do not wish to flee, but to stand, fight, see through what we have started. We each hear the cry, begging for freedom, speaking to our very being. It is undoubtedly human, and this tower is its prison.

Rallying together behind that desperate call, we armed ourselves and left our hidden safety. With each swing of axe or bludgeon, another foul beast fell, until we stood at the spire’s summit. Entering that final chamber, I expected to see some captured Druid or Realmwalker, using magick to reach for us, but no such sight awaited me. In a cage of stone and magick was naught but a golden, glowing shimmer. As I approached it, I felt such resonance, like seeing a piece of my own soul made manifest before me. The chains of magick fell away, and that small human fragment was released with a gracious whisper. I know not what awaits us now, but even at the end of the world, none of us are abandoned.